


five times marinette denied her feelings and the one time she let them take hold

by Speckleflower



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: 5+1 Things, Badass Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, F/M, Falling In Love, Hot Mess Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Love Confessions, Luka Couffaine Loves Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, POV Luka Couffaine, POV Marinette Dupain-Cheng, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:08:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29500413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Speckleflower/pseuds/Speckleflower
Summary: "Your voice will waver, yes. There will be times you feel unstable. But who can say you can't be strong with the power you have? No one. You let the melody stored inside you sing out, loud and clear and beautiful, and you don't let anyone tell you any different, Luka Couffaine."
Relationships: Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19
Collections: January 2021 - Exchange





	five times marinette denied her feelings and the one time she let them take hold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyCat1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyCat1/gifts).



> Written for LadyCat for the [Miraculous Fanworks Discord server](https://discord.gg/mlfanworks) January exchange!! This was incredibly fun to write—I haven't attempted a 5+1 fic of any kind before.

~1~

“Your favourite band is Sommet du Monde?” Luka Couffaine flashes a wide Cheshire cat-esque grin. “Mine is too!! Pfft wow, what a coincidence!”

“Shut up, you dork,” Marinette Dupain Cheng replies, not even looking up from her chemistry notes. “I know your favourite band is _your own band_.” The girl puts her pen down and turns to fix a stare on him, amusement dancing in her eyes.

“And what band would that be?” Luka questions innocently.

She says it promptly, “Kitty Section.”

Kitty Section—the band that half of Paris’ teenagers are obsessed with. Kitty Section, the band that wears masks covering the whole face, making their identities unknown.

“Ahaha, really? You think I’m good enough to be in _Kitty Section?_ No way!” Luka dramatically places a hand over his heart.

“Shut up, I know you think you are. Plus, you’re the guitarist.” The corners of Marinette’s mouth turn up, and she shakes her head with an eye-roll that is so pronounced it is almost audible.

“Whatever do you mean?” Luka touches a hand to his heart, a hurt expression on his face. “Everyone knows their identities are anonymous--no one knows who they are!”

“Well _I_ do, _guitarist_ ,” Marinette quips as she begins to pack away her notebook and gel pens.

Luka is speechless. Then again, he thinks, he should have realised Marinette would figure him out. To cover his blunder, he attempts a winning smile.

“You are so amazingly breathtaking right now, do you know that? I’m speechless.” He sidles closer.

“Shush.” Marinette punches his shoulder playfully. She uses the momentum of the hit to spin herself around, hoist her bag onto her back, and start walking. She calls over her shoulder, “I have to go help at the bakery; see you later, Luka.”

“But it’s true,” Luka whispers, when there’s five metres of distance between them.

Five metres of empty, black, chasm, and it’s getting wider.

He doesn’t know that the real reason the girl has turned around was to hide the crimson blush that now sweeps across her face.

~2~

“Mari, I got you a present!” Luka turns on the kawaii macho, and _grins_ at her. In his hands he holds a—clearly handmade (but not a shabby job either!! Our boi Luka has standards/creativity!!)—pastry box, and Marinette’s heart _melts_ . This sweet boy has made pastries for her? _Awww!!_ But of course she restrains herself from saying all that out loud, settling for a non-committal “Luka…”

Then he opens the box, and Marinette freezes. Oh, this is awkward.

“Are you blown away by my talent?” If it’s possible, Luka turns up the charm even more.

Marinette dials up the self-control to 302%. “Uhh, not _quite_. Have you- have you actually _looked_ at these… these… sorry, what are they supposed to be?”

“Um… macarons? Is that not obvious?”

The girl raises her eyebrows to the point that her eyes begin to water. She’s not exactly sure what the misshapen multicoloured… lumps in the pastry box are, but they sure _aren’t_ macarons. Her hands fasten to her hips. “If you wanted to bake, you should have asked me! I live in a _bakery_ , for heaven’s sake! I won’t allow you to produce any baked goods at that quality ever again,” she proclaims, chin up, as if she’s just given the ten commandments, and she _expects_ them to be obeyed.

After suffering twenty-three seconds of confusion at witnessing Marinette’s facial expression change so rapidly, Luka pouts. “Are you not even going to taste them? You never know, don’t judge a book by its cover!”

“Luka. My eyes work; I can tell when something is burnt, which, by the way, means it _doesn’t_ taste nice.”

The boy does a puppy dog stare, his eyes doubling in size. Marinette tries very hard not to get lost in them (she fails).

“Aww, Luka, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound harsh…” The words escape her mouth before she can keep them in check.

“Nah, don’t worry.” He shrugs, looking dejected.

She gives him a quick hug all the same.

“Score,” he mouths.

But it’s bittersweet, just like the attempted macarons.

~3~

Luka leans sideways in Marinette’s direction. “Here’s a concept: You and I are going out.”

She turns to face him with a lazy smile. “Here’s a concept: No.”

It’s now that Luka realises how lame his attempted pick-up was; he can practically _hear_ the audience screaming:

_LOOLLL REST IN PEACE LUKA_

(Just like guitar boi to constantly imagine an audience of fans watching his every move. He’s glad that such a thing does not exist to witness such a fail as this one.)

He thinks for a second, trying to recall techniques from a book he brushed up on last week: _How to get that special one to like you!_ (just for a bit of light reading, of course)

The perfect idea comes into his head, and he opens his mouth to speak-

“Nope!” Marinette grins, stopping him short. Her finger comes forwards, and to Luka’s horror, she _boops him on the nose_ , then gets up and _walks away_ —no, **_flounces_ **.

That girl is so _annoying_.

If Luka’s mouth were not hanging open he believes a sound not unlike a keyboard smash would be coming out, and it wouldn’t be pretty.

~4~

Marinette is Tired, with a capital T for Table. Nah, that can’t be right. T is for something else, but her sleep-deprived brain is unwilling to recite the alphabet at _any_ time, let alone after she’s been running around the whole day for her parents. A public holiday does not mean rest, oh no. A breakdown of her parents’ van and the normal delivery boy being off sick is all it takes. She cycles around the whole of France, it feels like, sending pastries and breads of all sorts to households who have no idea the laborious work she’s undertaking.

(Note: she _is_ exaggerating—Tom and Sabine would never overwork their daughter, not _those_ precious beans; simply, our girl overlooked the prospect of breakfast, as many teens her age do, and of course she would suffer for this later. _Eat your breakfast, Marinette!_ )

Anyway, Marinette discards her bicycle to her side, having delivered the last croissant, and sinks onto the bench, coincidentally the very same one that our favourite guitar-playing rascal, Luka, is Chillin™ on. Nothing suspicious at all.

“Why hello, Marinette,” Luka smiles. “Had a long day?”

“You think?” Marinette’s eyes begin to close, and she blinks hard, forcing them open. _No_ , she will not fall asleep in front of blue-hair.

“Are you falling asleep, pretty princess?”

“No, I don’t know what you- what you…” her mouth stretches into a large yawn. “Mean.” The word comes out as a whisper. He doesn’t know if she’s finishing the sentence, or plain calling him mean. He goes with the former.

As the resident manly shoulder to cry/sleep on—in his mind at least, Luka scoots closer. But Marinette’s head shoots up the instant he does, narrowly missing cracking his chin. Weirdly, she seems to be full of energy despite having almost fallen asleep two seconds earlier.

“Don’t you dare, Luka Couffaine! I can see right through you!”

Honestly, if her voice got any higher she’d be on Jagged Stone concert level. Trust Luka to make that comparison, not like he has any relationship to Jagged Stone. No, not at all.

Luka sighs. _Foiled again_. :’)

(the face Luka makes upon realising that he’s quoting about fifty-seven villains with that line)

Mari, seeing this, just thinks he’s trying to woo her.

Well, she’s not wrong.

~5~

“But Marinette, I don’t know if I’ll have the courage to speak out… I’m gonna get shut down and scorned again…”

Marinette rests a hand on his shoulder. "Your voice will waver, yes. There will be times you feel unstable. Weak. I’ve been there, and I’ll be there time and time again. But that’s expected, because you see—” Marinette gives him a lopsided smile— “No human is perfect. Who can say you can't be strong with the power you have? _No-one_. You let the melody stored inside you sing out, loud and clear and beautiful, and you don't let anyone tell you any different, Luka Couffaine. It's the imperfections that make you likeable. That bring out the best side of you, that make you human.”

Her voice trails down to almost a whisper and her hand slips from his arm.

"That make people love you."

Face flushed, Marinette stares at the wooden grain of the bench, hands clenched into worried fists. _Has she said too much?_ Over the last few days, she’s been slowly coming to a realisation, and it’s not something she’s willing to come to terms with yet.

If Luka were in his usual mood, he would have commented on that immediately, but his thoughts are already whirling around his head too fast. He fixes his eyes on his lap and breathes deeply. “Thank you for that, Marinette. For cheering me up. I really appreciate it.” His fingers intertwine mindlessly with each other.

After a second of silence, Marinette seems to skip a beat, snapping upright and tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Er, no problem, Luka! I never pass up the opportunity to help a friend, hehe...” she smiles awkwardly, shifting her feet under the bench below.

“I don’t want to forget this moment, you know.” His gaze meanders up to hers, and meets her shocking blue one. Her lips part slightly in a silent gasp.

Marinette wants to reply, _me too_ , but the words never make it out of her mouth before the creak of Luka’s rusted bicycle has long faded, and the sun casts her shadow onto the waters of the Seine below, shimmering amber under the sun’s diminishing rays.

~+1~

Luka gathers all his courage and takes a deep breath. The shudder in the rattle of air that escapes his mouth is very evident.

“Marinette.” He bites his bottom lip.

“Yes?” _Her voice. It’s so… soft._ She cocks her head, fixing her gorgeous bluebell eyes on him.

Luka squares his shoulders, then relaxes them again. A small shake of his head, and he feels Mari’s curious gaze on him.

 _It’s now or never, guitar-man_.

\------------

“You are an extraordinary girl, Marinette.”

His voice wavers audibly, but he continues, on the advice she herself gave him.

“Clear as a music note.”

_It feels like she’s been by his side for as long as he can remember—even though they met just two years ago there’s no one he finds easier to talk to, despite how she constantly friendzones him._

“Sincere as a melody.”

_The concern and care in her eyes shines bright on the day she told him that everything would be okay._

_Every time she laughed at him, every time she laughed_ with _him—before turning away in embarrassment—he sees it now._

“And the song that I’ve been hearing, ever since I met you-”

“Luka, stop.” Marinette puts her hands to her face, lip trembling.

“Wha-” Luka’s cheeks tinge with colour. _Did I say something wrong?_

“You don’t- need- to say that,” she chokes out. Tears collect in her eyes, break through the barrier of eyelashes and stream down her face; she scrubs at them half-heartedly. Luka just stands there.

\------------

“You already know I’m yours, don’t you?” Marinette sniffs. He opens his arms and she melts into them gladly.

\------------

_“I just wanted to hear you say it.”_


End file.
